


Visiting Rohan

by Ariana (Ariana_El)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aragorn as Thorongil, Family, Gen, Hermedil - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-17 13:55:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14190453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariana_El/pseuds/Ariana
Summary: Elladan and Elrohir visit Rohan when Aragorn serves there as Thorongil. Lots of family bonds, friendship, bit of culture differences between races.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, this is translation from Polish. The whole story is about 12k long (in Polish). I posted it as a whole in original form, but I am going to post it chapter by chapter in English - it's easier to translate this way. So - no worries, the story is finished and as the chapters are short, I expect to have one ready every few days.

**Chapter I**

The candle was slowly dying, meaning it was getting late. Few of the chambers were still lit. In one of them, a young man sat by the table, not caring about the moon already high on the sky, which glanced through the window between the curtains. If the documents laying on the desk were any indication, he was not going to finish soon.

The man was studying one of the scrolls and simultaneously writing down some details on a piece of paper. The work was monotonous with all those columns and evidence, but he was adamant to finish some part this night before going to sleep. He realised at some point that he had taken too much, but he didn’t want to put anything away, aware that the documents were not going to disappear; rather opposite.

He finished one paper and put it on the left, next to another, worryingly big pile still waiting to be studied. As he was still holding an inked quill in his right hand, he reached with his left to massage his neck, stiff from long sitting. The sooner he finishes, the sooner he would be able to move a bit. With this thought he took next paper, but before he had a chance to start reading, there was a soft knocking to the doors.

“Come in.”

“Still up, Thorongil?” The door opened and a tall man went inside. He brushed strands of fair hair from his face and his big, vigilant eyes looked around the chamber.

“I’m still behind, Hermedil,” replied Thorongil. He stood up and emptied a chair from the documents, then invited his guest to sit down. Unfortunately, two weeks of his absence at the court had left him with lots of reports to catch up with. He had had no strength to face them right after his return and to sit by the desk for long hours.

“Well, a lot has been going on recently,” admitted the man as he sat down. “And if you insist on reading all that, you won’t be leaving anytime soon,” he added with a crooked smile.

He was familiar with Thorongil’s habit to always know everything. More than once had he come, late like tonight, only to find him bent over some reports from the other side of the March. It was not the only peculiarity of his friend, who had only recently got at ease with the men of Rohan. Hermedil remembered when Thorongil had joined them three years earlier. The young man had tried not to show anything, but it was plain he felt like a stranger among the Rohirrim. At least at the very beginning; Thorongil was a trustworthy man and people liked him. At some level his aura of mystery helped as well; especially that he was easy going too. No one knew where he came from and where his homeland truly was. He said only that he came from west. He made a good impression on the commanders with his sword skills. The men of Rohan were unfamiliar with some of his tricks, and though Thorongil was willing to teach them, he kept it to himself where he had learned them. It also soon became known that he possessed huge knowledge in various subjects, but some of the habits and customs, obvious to everyone else, were surprising to him. Whenever such situation occurred, Thorongil explained rather sheepishly that he was raised in a different culture, but that was plain enough. Soon, though, he got familiar with the customs of the Rohirrim and when something surprised him, he would hide his feelings.

Thorongil tossed some papers and dragged his companion from his memories. He smiled and spoke, pointing at the scroll he was holding.

“This one is yours.” He glanced at the sheet covered tightly with uneven letters. “You could write more legibly, you know,” he remarked.

“Perhaps I could, had I had more time,” replied Hermedil lightly. “I forgot you would be reading it too. I would have paid more attention, had I remembered,” he laughed. Even scribbling did not discourage Thorongil.

“I trust you have good enough memory, so that I won’t have to read it.” The man by the desk reached for a pitcher and filled two mugs with wine.

“You won’t have to,” said the Rohirrim. “I’ll just sum it up, it will be quicker,” he offered.

“Yes, please.” Thorongil put the scroll aside with relief and stretched his long legs comfortably.

“To be honest, there is only one interesting detail from the whole patrol,” began Hermedil. He quickly recalled the number of the warriors and their weapons and moved to the point. “Nothing happened for the whole two weeks, imagine that. Peace and quiet, no signs of enemies, nothing. To put it short, we were bored.”

“That’s not fair,” muttered Thorongil. “We had too much to do.”

He himself returned two days earlier, dead on his feet with weariness, and he had lost three men in the fight. He wasn’t about to complain if the next patrol was going to be uneventful.

“You should have gone with us, you could have.” Hermedil pointed out friendly. “Though who knows how it will be next time.”

“Yeah... But – you mentioned something interesting.” Thorongil went back to the point.

“Like I said, it was rather boring. Only today on our way back we came across some remains of a fight,” continued Hermedil. “A violent one, I would say. Had it not been for the smell of the orc corpses, we would have missed it. They must have been surprised in that den where we found them. Awful place, I was surprised someone would go there and endanger horses to break their legs.”

“How did the battlefield look like? What kind of marks did you see on the orcs?” asked Thorongil, visibly interested. He wished to interrogate his companion, but he composed himself. He didn’t want Hermedil to notice his excitement.

“Now that’s the strangest part,” replied the Rohirrim. He took a sip of wine and continued. “It looked as if some kind of storm had gone there and the orcs dropped dead. They stood no chance.”

“Did you find any signs of those who had slaughtered them? Do you know how many?” Thorongil interrupted him.

“No.” Hermedil disappointed him. “The ground was rocky and the orcs were laying there for over a day, judging by the smell. I asked among our people, but no one claimed the victory, though it would be something to boast about.”

“We would already know if it was anyone from our men,” agreed Thorongil. “How did the orcs die?” he asked.

“Hmm... Quickly and precisely, I would say,” replied the Rohirrim shortly. “Terribly precisely, I have never seen such marks. Not many have such skills with swords. It seemed that not many orcs had even managed to draw their weapons. Some of them were shot, but we have not found a single arrow, even a broken one, that would tell us anything.” Hermedil took a closer look at his host and noticed a strange glimmer in his eyes. “Why do I feel like you’re not surprised?”

Thorongil looked up at his companion. Yes, it sounded strangely familiar for someone used to such sights from his very first scouting patrols. His suspicions got some confirmation, but he didn’t want to share them with his guest.

“Why? Because I have just read something similar,” he replied freely. “Look at that,” he said and passed a short report to the Rohirrim. “Different place, similar tracks. And we don’t know who’s behind it either.”

“Let me see.” Hermedil glanced at the report, then at the date and counted days quickly. “Something’s not right,” he noticed. “It looks like these tracks were two-three days older than those I saw this morning. But you need almost four days to make such distance! It’s impossible!”

 _You haven’t seen travelling elves_ , thought Thorongil and a shade of nostalgic smile passed through his face.

“So, we have a mystery,” he said aloud and muffled a yawn. “Seems someone’s helping us.”

“This is not a puzzle to solve this evening,” claimed Hermedil, seeing his host’s weariness. “We’ll work it out tomorrow.”

“I think I’ll go and see those tracks,” replied Thorongil. “I’ll gladly examine them and I need to move a bit.”

“I can go with you,” offered the Rohirrim. “I have no doubts you’d find them on my sole description, but it will be quicker this way and I’m curious what you’re hoping to find there.”

“We’ll leave in the morning,” agreed Thorongil. “I’ll go and have the horses ready at dawn.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, I’ll do it on my way back.” Hermedil stopped him. “Good night.” He stood up and left the mug on the table. “And leave it for tonight.”

“I will.” The other man smiled and led his guest to the door, wishing him good night.

He left the documents on the desk and went to the second room. Though he was tired, sleep would not come. Aragorn sprawled himself comfortably on the bed, but anxious waiting would not let him rest.

 _It was so like the twins_ , he thought. Memories and longing for home threatened to overcome him. He tried to calm down, reminding himself that he could be wrong and he would just be disappointed, but still a long time passed before he drifted to sleep.

***

Hermedil prepared everything just like he promised and Thorongil left at dawn with twenty men. The day was cloudy, but nothing suggested it was going to rain. He hoped it would remain so. Rain would wash the tracks that interested him so much. Hermedil chose the quickest route and they reached their destination after less than three hours. The leader ordered his men to wait and went on with his friend. He feared the tracked could have been stepped over, but neither Hermedil’s men from the previous day nor Thorongil’s were eager to approach the stinking corpses.

Thorongil asked his companion to wait as well and he went down to the den. Trying to ignore the smell, he leaned over the nearest orc. It was shot, there was a narrow hole near his eye. Thorongil left him to examine those killed with swords. Hermedil was right; those who had done it had truly been precise. He was wrong, though, claiming that the strangers left no tracks. Rocks made it hard to see anything, but the man’s keen eyes noticed a faint track of a shoe, then the other. Thorongil followed the trail, his heart racing. Those were not the kind of shoes the Rohirrim wore...

He passed the battlefield, examining closely the surroundings as he went to the nearby bushes around a small tree cluster. Another trail joined the first one. Thorongil smiled to himself and quickened his pace. Like he suspected, he found tracks of two horses, which must have been tied there for some time, as they had eaten leaves from the lower braches. But that was not what dragged his attention; it was a small thing left by the strangers. A thin leather rope was tied in a complicated manner around a young oak. Thorongil could not believe his eyes. To make sure, he knelt and searched the long grass beneath, until his fingers grasped a polished stone. A simple mountain crystal with a star carved on it dispelled all his doubts. They really were here!

The man followed the trails of two mounts for a moment to make sure to which direction they had gone. He also realised the tracks were much more fresh than the battlefield. Apparently Elladan and Elrohir had lingered longer and had left only a couple of hours earlier. Had they seen Hermedil the previous morning? How else could he explain the fact that they had left a sign for him?

Thorongil went back to his companions. He forced himself to calm down in order to mask his excitement. He would have gladly mounted his horse and ridden after his brothers, but he couldn’t The men of Rohan accepted his strange habits and his secrecy, but that did not mean he could whatever he wished. The Rohirrim were suspicious when it came to elves, so they would not be likely to accept their company.

“As we are already here, we’ll join Fasthelm. He mention he could use some help,” said Thorongil to his men, but he was met only with silent agreement. “Are you going with us?” he asked Hermedil, who had joined them on his free will and was not obliged to accompany them. He nodded, though, and said.

“Why not. I’ll see my brother.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

 

Although they joined Fasthelm after two hours, it was already late afternoon when Aragorn finally left the camp. Behind him, white tents were visible for a long time. The encampment had been made there for many years due to convenient conditions. As the nearby lands had recently become more dangerous, the tents stood there more and more often and in an increasing number, until the camp transformed into a big, well-equipped base. The garrison staying there the whole time was being provisioned by the nearby villages, which felt safer because of the warriors’ presence. As the time passed, a few buildings and a smithy were constructed as well.

When they came, they were greeted by almost no one. Hardly half of the tents were inhabited. Aragorn located his people and left them to the commander’s disposal, then went to one of the smaller tents on the outsides of the camp, which he had occupied more than once before. He was used to finding himself remote spots; it was easier for scouts to come and go unperturbed, without having to pass various tents. This time too he decided to have a look around and so he rode alone after leaving his belongings.

On his way he wondered whether the brothers had come across the Rohirrim, as it would have caused a lot of commotion. He was aware, though, that the sons of Elrond were likely to notice them long before being noticed themselves and that the Rohhirim would not track them down if the elves didn’t allow them to.

The sun was slowly setting and hiding behind the scattered line of the mountains. Aragorn looked back, but he didn’t want to return just yet. Only recently had he found the trail he had been looking for; he had lost almost four hours wandering around, before he turned towards the mountains. He knew Elladan and Elrohir preferred such hollows and chasms to open spaces that went miles long in Rohan.

His deduction was proved right by the trail of two horses in the scarce grass; fresh, as Aragorn noticed with content. Were it not for the hills obscuring the sight, his brothers would have probably noticed him by now.

The horse, urged by its rider, quickened its pace, but not for long. The man halted as his horse prickled its ears and snorted quietly. There was an orc on the ground before them. A dead one.

Aragorn jumped off his saddle and bared his sword. He went on, taking each step carefully. It was very quiet around. Strange... Was the fight already over, was he to meet his brothers any moment now, cleaning their weapons? Aragorn stopped paying attention to the trails on the ground, watching the surroundings. He passed two more bodies and heard a hoarse noise.

Near a huge stone that must have been there for centuries, a big orc was lying. He tried to move, but the raspy breath that came from his mouth was one of his last; his chest was pierced. Seeing the man, he tried to grab a curved knife, but he lacked the strength. Aragorn killed him with one movement.

His worry increased. Where were his brothers? They never left dying enemies. Had they gone too far in their chase? Then he saw a puddle of blood, lighter than orc blood. The man muttered comfortably to his horse and hastened. He was beginning to fear for his brothers.

A few steps later, behind a hole, an elven blade was lying. And then its owner. Aragorn momentarily found himself by his side and carefully turned him on his back. Not letting the darkest thoughts to come forward, he placed two fingers on his neck and sighed in relief as he felt the pulse. The elf was alive.

Because of the blood and dirt on his face Aragorn couldn’t say if it was Elrohir or Elladan, but it didn’t matter. One of his brothers was wounded and he could be worse if Aragorn wouldn’t do something about the blood soaking through his clothes. The man placed the jacket aside and cut the already torn shirt, uncovering a long gash on the right side. He noticed a thin, barely visible scar going along the rib on the left. So Elladan... But where was Elrohir? Aragorn hesitated for a moment, torn between the necessity of stopping the bleeding and the urge to find his other brother. What if he too was lying somewhere nearby and bleeding to death...?

There was no time for such pointless thinking. Aragorn pressed the cut part of the shirt to the wound. The knife that made it was lying nearby, but it didn’t look poisoned. The man adjusted the fabric and stood up to find necessary dressings in his saddlebag, when he noticed his other brother stumbling towards him.

“Elrohir, here!” He called quietly, though the elf had probably already noticed him.

Elrohir quickened his pace as much as he could. Aragorn wasted no time and he knelt beside Elladan to take care of him.

“Estel, what...?” Elrohir was soon on his knees, before Aragorn had a chance to do anything. He showed no surprise at seeing his foster brother, as if not three years had passed since they had last seen each other.

When Aragorn uncovered the wound, the elf said something he didn’t understand, but which has very plain meaning. Elrohir reached with his left hand to push the clothes further; he kept his right arm protectively close to his chest.

“Pull him up, I won’t do it on my own,” asked Aragorn. He would have made some space for Elrohir to take care of his bother, had he not been so stiff. “Can you?” he wanted to be sure.

Elrohir just nodded and, with Aragorn’s help, placed Elladan’s head and shoulders on his knees. He kept his brother still, but Elladan remained unconscious and didn’t react when Aragorn bandaged his torso.

“What happened here?” asked the man as he finished bandaging. He glanced up at Elrohir, who was still tense and angry.

“We miscalculated,” replied the elf and he looked away from his twin. “Dan was shot with a poisoned arrow a few days ago and he has not yet fought it off completely. We wanted to find a place to stay overnight and we met another hoard. I had to drag them away from Elladan,” he muttered, but then he sent Aragorn a crooked smile. “Elbereth guards us. It is good to see you, little brother,” he added warmly.

Estel returned the smile automatically despite the feeling that it was not supposed to be like that. Elladan and Elrohir were to be waiting for him, fine and fit. They were to spend a nice evening and night by the fire, talking peacefully. Aragorn dreamed of a moment away from reality, of going back home, even just in his thoughts, and yet here he was, kneeling with his arms elbow-deep in his brother’s blood. Seems the fate wanted it to be different...

‘You too.” Estel looked at Elladan’s unmoving form and the smile vanished from his face.

Elrohir shifted and hissed, but before Aragorn asked what was the matter, the younger son of Elrond spoke quietly.

“We can’t stay here. We need peace and quiet. And fire.”

“We won’t find them here,” replied Aragorn. He made sure the dressings held firm. “It’s dangerous place... Where are your horses?” He changed the subject.

“They spooked,” admitted Elrohir reluctantly. “They shouldn’t be far, I will call them, if you stay with Elladan.” The elf exhaled deeply and winced again.

“Ro? What’s wrong?” asked Aragorn finally, turning his attention to his second brother. He carefully laid Elladan on the ground and took a closer look of Elrohir, who stretched his legs.

“Nothing serious,” muttered the younger son of Elrond. He made a movement as if he wanted to get up, then changed his mind and pulled one of his legs closer to examine the calf.

“Let me see,” Aragorn interrupted him, seeing that his brother couldn’t manage with just one hand. He leaned over and used his knife to widen the hole in the trousers.

“Something’s still there,” hissed Elrohir, trying to remove dark pieces from the bleeding wound. “Bastard... Stabbed me as he was already lying.”

“I’ll take it out.”

Elrohir sat, unmoved, as Aragorn cleaned the wound. As soon as he was done, the elf got up before the man dressed the wound.

“I’ll be right back.” The younger son of Elrond grabbed his sword and left.

Aragorn remained at Elladan’s side and followed his other brother with his gaze. Now he could clearly see blood on his back above his right shoulder blade, the most obvious reason why he kept his arm so still. He wanted to call Elrohir to wait, but decided against it; it was best for his brother to find the horses first. He looked at Elladan instead, a bit surprised and worried that the elf had not woken. Perhaps it was because of the poison his brother had mentioned.

Elrohir returned with the horses sooner than could be expected; he was limping visibly. When he approached, Aragorn’s mount snorted warningly. The man got up to calm him and whispered a few words. Next moment he found himself in Elrohir’s embrace, as he finally had a chance to greet him properly. For a moment Estel forgot about the circumstances of their meeting, so familiar this embrace was; he almost expected to see Elrond and his mother. Then the reality returned; they were still in not exactly safe place and in not the best situation.

“Can you please check what is it I have on my back?” Elrohir’s voice dragged him back from memories.

Aragorn loosened his jacket and shirt to uncover a wound with uneven edges on the shoulder blade.

“We have to be going,” he stated. “It will be probably better if I sew it once we’re home than to wait for the night to find us here.”

“Where?” Elrohir looked at him with surprise. “Where do you want to go?”

“To the encampment,” explained Estel. “If we hurry up, we should be there in more or less two hours. There you can rest and recover.”

“It’s risky, Estel.” Elrond‘s son objected as his companion was trying to make a temporary dressing. “I don’t wish you to be in any trouble with the men of Rohan. As I understand, you did not tell them where you were raised and with whom,” he remarked and involuntarily moved his arm back.

“Don’t move,” muttered Aragorn, as his brother was making his task more difficult. He had to admit Elrohir was right, though. However, when he compared the risk of suspicions among the Rohirrim with his bothers’ current situation, there was no place for discussion.

“I have no choice. We cannot stay here and we will not be much safer in the open space, as we will need to make fire. We will be exposed and if someone notices us, we would not stand a chance. Elladan is of no use right now and you yourself are much limited,” he pointed out bluntly.

“Is there really no place for us to find shelter for the night and rest a few days?” inquired Elrohir. “We would wait there and recover. We’ve got provisions.”

“And how do you imagine that?” retorted Aragorn.”You won’t manage with just one hand and Dan won’t be able to help you. And I can’t point you a safe place. We have no choice.”

“You risk a lot for us, Estel,” repeated Elrohir.

 “You are my brothers,” replied Aragorn simply and the elf bowed in thanks. “And one of them could stop talking and moving his arm,” he reproached him lightly.

Elrohir laughed quietly and went still.

“Let’s go before it gets dark.”

“I’ll take Elladan,” said Aragorn, deciding it would be easier for him to hold the wounded than for Elrohir. He carefully placed Elladan in front of himself, leaving the loose mount to Elrohir. “Let’s go.”

***

 Aragorn was silent at first, allowing himself to simply enjoy the presence of his brothers. It was good to be with the sons of Elrond again. Three years was long enough to miss everyone. Surely there was a lot going on...

“How’s mother?” he asked. He watched Elrohir, straight yet stiff, who covered himself tightly with his cloak.

“It’s good you mentioned it, for I would have forgotten. I have a letter from Gilraen for you.” The younger son of Elrond smiled, but Estel could see he was trying to hide his own discomfort.

“You’ll give it to me in the camp,” said Aragorn, seeing that his brother was about to search through his saddlebags. “But do tell me, how fares she? How did she stand my leaving?”

“She misses you,” replied Elrohir shortly. “It was plain at the beginning, but she managed. After you left, she spent a lot of time in the library, or in the kitchen with Finril.”

Aragorn smiled to himself. GIlraen was friends with the elleth since when he could remember. It was good to know his mother found some comfort in her company.

“And how do you fare here? What are the Rohirrim like?” Elrohir’s eyes shone with curiosity. “You have to tell me something about their current tactics, my information are very out of date. What kind of force do...”

“Elrohir, please, later.” Estel interrupted him before he asked more questions. “Elladan will never forgive me. But do tell me about home. How’s Imladris? Is it safe? Did the Rangers say anything?”

Elrohir began to answer, but he stopped and rode closer.

“Elladan is about to wake up,” he said calmly, then switched to Sindarin and began to speak comfortingly to his brother.

For a moment Aragorn simply listened to the familiar melody of the language and to Elrohir’s melodious voice. He had not heard this speech for so long... Earlier he used the Common speech out of habit and his brother did the same.

“Be careful.” The younger son of Elrond warned him. “Elladan knows I’m near, but I’m not sure he’s aware of everything.”

Aragorn nodded. He could feel the elf’s muscles tense; he was no longer lifeless. Elladan shifted anxiously, but the man’s steady grip kept him safe.

“It’s alright, Dan,” he said calmly. “I know you’re not comfortable, but we will be riding for some time.”

“Estel?” Disbelief in Elladan’s voice was more than visible.”Or do I have a fever and my eyes are tricking me?”

“A fever you probably have, but Estel is real,” replied Elrohir, still with the same, seemingly easy tone. “And unfortunately he’s right, we still have some road to make.”

“If everything goes fine, we should be there in about two hours,” added Aragorn, helping his brother sit more comfortably.

“Where?” Confused, Elladan pinned his watery eyes in his twin. “Ro?”

“Estel’s home.”

“I wouldn’t call it home, but there will be a place to sleep, fire and warm food,” corrected Estel and smiled to his brothers.

“Oh...” Elladan looked like he wanted to add something, but he just changed the subject.”Could you let me go, Estel? Last time I checked, I possessed my own horse.”

 “No, he could not.” Elrohir answered instead of Aragorn. “I will feel better, if you stay where you are.”

“Do I have a choice?” Elladan surrendered and leaned more comfortably against Estel.

Elrohir seemed content with the lack of his brother’s objections. For a moment they rode in silence, then the younger son of Elrond went back to their earlier conversation. At first he claimed that little happened at home, but then he subjected to his brother’s pleas. Aragorn wished to know everything related to home and the elf was aware of it, so he didn’t scrimp him the details. Elladan added something from time to time, but he was mostly silent, allowing Elrohir to lead the conversation.

               

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how about 'twins need a bit of help'?  
> In case anyone's wondering, I decided looooong time ago that Elladan is older, if only by minutes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

“This is the camp you mentioned?” asked Elladan after some time, startling Estel. He had been silent for a long time and the man thought he had fallen asleep. “I can see fires.”

“Probably. There is no other camp like that in many miles,” replied Aragorn, though he could not see anything just yet. Again he thought how he missed his brothers’ company; among the men of Rohan, he was the one with keen eyes and not many could match him. “I have a request. Please don’t call me Estel among the Rohirrim. They know me as Thorongil and I don’t wish to explain more than I will have to.”

“It’s quite risky anyway,” Elrohir pointed out. Somewhere during their journey his lightness and easiness had disappeared and the last few quarters they had been riding in silence. “What are you going to say when someone sees us?”

“I don’t know yet,” admitted Aragorn. “You’re my friends, it’s not like I’m bringing enemies to the camp.”

They approached the camp from the east to avoid riding between the tents. Aragorn was glad so many of the Rohirrim were away, because life focused in the central part and there was hardly anyone on the outsides.

They passed a guard from distance; Aragorn told him the password and they passed unperturbed.

Despite Aragorn’s worries, Elladan stood quite firmly on his feet. Though the ride had been far from pleasant, he was content he didn’t need his foster brother’s support. The shot wound was a nuisance; though the arrow had only scratched him, it was poisoned and caused him a lot of trouble. It was good to learn that the poison was wearing off and what he suffered now was just tiredness from wounds and blood loss. Nothing new, nothing dangerous and when the horse pace stopped causing him pain, he felt rather fine, considering circumstances.

 It was Elrohir who had to hold on to the saddle for a moment when he dismounted, and he leaned his forehead against the horse’s neck. Elladan took a closer look of his brother.

“Ro? What did I miss?” he asked, calmly so far. The younger son of Elrond was covered tightly with his cloak, so Elladan could not see what was wrong. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing, I know how reluctant you are to leave me in care of someone else,” he added lightly, sending his brother a knowing look. Estel was one of the few they trusted completely, but Elladan could easily recall various situations from the past and knew how reluctant Elrohir was to let somebody else take care of his brother when he needed help as well.

“Not someone else, but Estel.” Elrohir corrected him and looked up. “Are we going to stand here like this? I thought we were not supposed to draw attention?” he hissed at his brother.

Elladan exchanged a knowing look with Estel and they both went inside the tent. He was sure his brother was going to join them soon. Elrohir didn’t look like something serious had happened, something that required immediate action, so Elladan dropped the issue, deciding not to provoke his brother. Anyway, Estel had probably taken care of him as much as he could. For the time being, he allowed his human brother to ease him on the bedding and even laid down to rest a bit; he did feel a little lightheaded after all.

Elrohir indeed fussed a bit by the horses, then went in as well, just as Estel found a lantern and lit it. The younger son of Elrond placed their saddlebags within reach and tossed his cloak into a corner, so it would not be in the way.

“Make yourself at home, I’ll bring some water.” Estel grabbed a bucket and left.

***

The afternoon went lazily for Hermedil. His brother he wanted to see was away on a patrol and was due to return the next day, so he had nothing to do. He realised too late that Thorongil had gone on his own like he usually did; otherwise he would have joined him.

In the evening Hermedil went to his friend’s tent and was surprised to see three horses in front of it. One belonged to Thorongil, but about the other two he could say on spot that they did not come from Rohan stables. They were well cared of, but it was plain they had made a long journey. Intrigued, Hermedil came closer and heard a young voice speaking in some foreign language.

The Rohirrim went inside without even trying to hide his presence. There were strangers in the camp...

The speaking young man was kneeling with his back to the entrance. He was wearing just trousers and a dark blue shirt, from under which a makeshift dressing was visible; his jacket and grey cloak were lying in the corner. His long, dark hair fell loosely up to his mid-back. All of that Hermedil noticed in one moment, because as he went in, the kneeling man jumped to his feet with a dagger in his left hand. He turned towards the entrance and his keen eyes rested at the newcomer. There was a circlet in his tangled hair and a star upon his forehead, covered with mud and blood. And elf, realised Hermedil in astonishment.

“We are Thorongil’s friends,” said the stranger calmly in fluent Common Speech. He lowered the hand with the knife; he kept the other protectively close to his side. “We mean no harm,” he promised, but he did not move, still standing between his laying companion and Hermedil.

“What are you doing here?” The Rohirrim asked both of them, as the other elf elevated himself on his elbow. “Who are you?”

“My name is Elrohir and this is my brother Elladan. We are sons of Elrond from Rivendell.” The elf introduced himself, confirming Hermedil’s suspicions; even under all the dirt and blood he could see they were almost identical. “We had an encounter with orcs and my brother was wounded. Thorongil offered us shelter.”

The mentioned chose that moment to return to the tent. Seeing his friend, Hermedil removed his hand from his sword.

“You owe me some explanations, I presume,” he said, switching from Common Speech to his mother tongue and stepped aside to let Thorongil join the elves. The one who introduced himself as Elrohir knelt back by his brother and said something quickly in his language.

“You see the ones responsible for the trails that intrigued you so.” Thorongil smiled, but Hermedil could see his tension. “When I saw the battlefield, I got some suspicions and went to confirm them. They are my friends, we have fought side by side many times, so when I found them and saw they were wounded, I offered help.”

“Just the two of them? Alone?” Hermedil glanced at the strangers with new respect. “Did you fight all those orcs just on your own?” he repeated his question in Common Speech, seeing the questioning looks of the elves; they clearly did not know the language of the Rohirrim.

“We travel alone, just the two of us.” Elladan nodded and sat up. “We were unlucky this time,” he added lightly.

Hermedil shook his head in disbelief. He could see both of them were not unharmed, but with so many enemies he would rather say they were lucky.

“I need to inform our commander,” he said. “You can’t just bring strangers like that.” He had no reason not to trust Thorongil, and if the elves fought orcs, then they were on their side, but the commander needed to know about their presence in the camp.

“Of course.” Thorongil bowed slightly. “I intended to go myself, but we waited long enough and I wanted to tend to the wounds properly.”

Hermedil glanced at the elves. Dirty and bloody, they looked tired, also the one who jumped so hastily on his feet a moment ago. He decided they would not disappear once he’s gone.

“Stay here until I’m back,” he ordered. If he wanted to, he could place guards before the tent, but he trusted Thorongil.

***

“Do you not understand the speech of Rohan?” asked Aragorn quietly, once they were alone again; he switched to Sindarin.

“At least four ages have passed since I have last used it,” replied Elrohir lightly. “Languages change... So it’s probably better to stick to the option that we do not understand.”

“I suspect that if one of us used the version we remember, your friend...”

“Hermedil,” prompted Estel, hearing his hesitation.

“Hermedil would probably not understand us,” finished Elladan.

Estel went outside the tent to make a fire. He didn’t seem troubled with the fact that the elves’ presence was discovered so quickly, so the brothers relaxed a bit.

Elladan eagerly washed some of the blood that covered him. He took off his shirt, sticky and dirty, and reached to the bandage on his side.

“Wait.” Elrohir stopped him. He undressed us well and washed his face. For a moment Elladan silently watched him take some herbs and medicines; he wasn’t that keen on learning what was the source of that dull pain in his side.

“Show me your arm,” he said finally, seeing that Elrohir was more and more stiff, as if he stopped pretending he felt better than he really did.

“Later,” his brother dismissed him. “I don’t want to touch it before we have everything ready. Estel will stitch me later. No,” he added, seeing Elladan’s look. “Your hands shake too much tonight.”

From the outside the voices of Estel, Hermedil and someone else could be heard. The men exchanged a few sentences and went inside.

The commander was a man advanced in years, but his straight silhouette and the way he moved suggested his strength was not yet gone. His fair hair with many grey strokes reached his chin. He wasn’t tall, half a head shorter than Estel.

“Elves indeed...” he muttered, if Elladan understood correctly, as he examined the brothers. “Elrohir and Elladan, is that right?” He made sure, switching to Common Speech.

The brothers nodded.

“The friends of Thorongil are welcome here,” said the commander. “You may stay and recover for as long as you need.”

 “Thank you.” Elrohir bowed. “We won’t cause any trouble, only our horses would need...”

“The horses were already taken care of.” Hermedil interrupted him and smiled friendly.

“We shall speak tomorrow about the rest, when you’re better.” The commander cut the further discussion. “Do you need someone skilled in healing?”

This time the twins exchanged amused glances.

“Our father is a healer, we know what to do,” explained Elrohir. “We’ll manage with Thorongil’s help.”

Both Rohirrim left; Hermedil offered help, but Estel declined. He forced Elladan to sit, while Elrohir tossed his shoes and went to the fire barefoot to prepare the herbs.

The elder son of Elrond did not object when his foster brother removed the bandages. He would rather have checked what irritated Elrohir so much, but he was in no position to argue and he knew any discussion would end in a row. There was no point in causing Estel trouble.

Elrohir gave them a mug with hot brew, but instead of staying, he went straight back to the fire. Elladan was a bit surprised, because he expected him to watch Estel work and be frustrated he could not tend to his brother. Instead, Elrohir prepared some herbs for himself as well. ‘ _Good_ ,’ noticed Elladan, glad that this twin would take care of himself. He watched him idly for next minutes, trying to ignore the needle going back and forth through his skin.

Estel was swift. He worked in silence and asked only about the older wound. Elladan explained shortly what had happened. He told him about the poisoned arrow that had caused them so many troubles, but he kept glancing at his brother, who clearly couldn’t find himself a comfortable spot outside.

“Elrohir, would you please sit down?” Aragorn caught Elladan’s stare and glances as well at his other brother, still fussing by the fire and with his herb bag. The younger son of Elrond seemed irritated. “I want to take a look on you,” he reminded him, bandaging Elladan.

“Coming,” sighted Elrohir and went inside. He was limping and didn’t even try to hide it. He stopped by the pillar supporting the tent and leaned against it, closing his eyes. Then he asked suddenly. “Can we go outside?”

“Sure.” Aragorn looked at him, alarmed, but Elrohir left at once to sit by the fire.

Aragorn used the herbs that were already prepared to clean the wound on his back, considering this one to be more serious. The elf sat motionless, leaning forward and being uncharacteristically quiet, comparing to the previous hours.

“Can you please stop, Estel?” he asked suddenly in a tense voice, when Aragorn was half-way done with the stitches.

Surprised, the man took away his hand with the needle and Elrohir rushed unsteadily at side. When Estel joined him, he was vomiting. He would have lost his balance, had Estel not supported him.

“Ro? What’s wrong?”

“My leg.” Elrohir regained his balance and closed his eyes. “I thought not enough of the poison has got into the blood.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Aragorn led him back to the fire to find Elladan standing in the entrance to the tent, with a mug in his hand.

“Because you wouldn’t have done anything on the way, and had we stopped somewhere, I would have been caught by that during the ride,” Elrohir just shrugged and winced. “I have already prepared myself what might be useful,” he added, pointing at the mug Elladan passed him; he had already drunk most of it.

“We’re going to have a difficult night,” Elladan sighed and, ignoring reproaching looks of his brothers, sat down instead of going back to the tent.

“I’ll stay outside, it will be more convenient,” muttered Elrohir. He sat next to his brother with his side to the fire, unsuccessfully trying to stop shivering. “Finish that, Estel, while I’m still on my feet.”

Aragorn cast him a sceptical look, not really agreeing, but he followed the advice and finished stitching. Elrohir had been still earlier, but now with every move of the needle the man could feel he could barely contain trembling.

Elladan, instead staying where he was, rose with effort as Estel finished tending and he went into the tent. First he placed outside his saddlebag then returned carrying blankets and cloaks. He put one on his brother’s back and sat heavily beside him.

“You could have said,” remarked Aragorn. He passed Elladan his bag before he could get up again.

“I needed to move a bit, I’m all stiff,” replied the elder son of Elrond lightly. He placed a blanket on the ground and carefully laid down on his side.

Aragorn didn’t even try to object. It was plain that if Elrohir was staying outside, Elladan would not sleep in the tent. The elder son of Elrond leaned on his elbow and found a small box with an ointment in his bag. He forced his brother to pull up his trousers and show him his leg.

Estel glanced questioningly at him, but Elladan shook his head. He trusted his younger brother, but now he needed to see to Elrohir himself. Estel backed, leaving them alone. He found some clean shirts and passed them to the brothers; their own needed to be washed and mended. Elladan could see his judging stare as he put the shirt on. Next to him, Elrohir ignored the clothes, covered himself tightly with his cloak and curled miserably by the fire.

“Go get some sleep,” suggested Estel to Elladan and he tossed him one more blanket over the fire. “I’ll watch over him.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? Elves are not a common sight in Rohan :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV**

The warm, Summer rain changed all the frequently used paths into muddy puddles. The storm that came at dawn passed quickly, but the rain didn’t stop. No one left tents if they didn’t need to.

Hermedil hid a basket with food and wine under his cloak , then put his hood on and left the storage. He went towards Thorongil’s tent, partly out of curiosity, partly because he wished to help. He suspected his friend had had a busy evening, perhaps night as well, and besides, he hoped to learn something about their unusual guests.

He opened the tent and went inside. There was no sign of Thorongil, but the elves were still there, proving that he had not imagined them yesterday.

One of the strangers was sitting a bit askew, leaning against a small chest. Which one, Hermedil had no idea. The other was sleeping next to him, covered with a cloak and a blanket. His face was grey and tensed, he kept his head on his brother’s knees. The sitting one was keeping an arm protectively around him, playing idly with the end of the cloak on the shoulder of the sleeping.

Seeing Hermedil, the elf placed a finger of his free hand on his lips. At least this time he didn’t grab the knife, thought the Rohirrim.

“Thorongil should be back soon,” whispered the elf.

“I’ve brought some food.” Hermedil put the basket on the ground. “Elrohir, right?”

“Elladan.” The elf corrected him and smiled, amused.

Hermedil took a closer look on him and noticed that indeed he was using his right arm with ease. Even so, it didn’t fit to what he had seen the previous evening, when Elladan was barely able to stand. Elrohir looked better then...

“Has something happened yesterday?” he asked carefully. “Your brother...”

Understanding showed in the elf’s eyes. He sighed.

“The poison hit soon after you left,” he explained. “No, there is no reason to worry too much,” he reassured, seeing the look the man gave his brother.

“More than one of our friends almost died from orc poison,” replied Hermedil doubtfully. “More than one did not survive it.”

“Do not think the sons of Elrond are ignorant in these matters,” said Thorongil unexpectedly. He quickly went in and took off his wet cloak. “It is not so easy to kill an elf and what would be deadly for you or me, it will be just a nuisance to them. Elrohir should be fine once he sleeps it over.”

“Mmm, if I manage to sleep,” muttered the mentioned elf grudgingly. He propped himself and a wince appeared on his face.

“Forgive us,” said Thorongil apologetically,

“No, not you.” Elrohir sat up, accepting that Elladan put his arm around him without a word. “My head.”

“Are you trying to suggest you were not comfortable on my knees?” asked Elladan with fake offense, but he was already passing his bother a mug with some liquid.

“No.” Elrohir took a few sips and then curled again, dragging his cloak on his eyes and ignoring the surroundings.

For a moment Elladan watched his brother with worry, then smiled and turned to Hermedil.

“Your commander wished to talk,” he said. “As I stopped being Elrohir’s pillow, I can go and speak with him, once I’ve made myself presentable.” The elf brushed his tangled hair from his face and tried to comb them with his fingers, disgusted.

Thorongil nodded and reached his hand to help him. Elladan accepted his help and rose carefully. He froze for a moment, as if unsure of his steadiness, but he must have been content with the results, because he let go of his friend.

“Where can I find some water? I need to wash myself.”

“The northern end of the camp is marked out by a stream,” replied Thorongil. “But it’s still raining.”

Elladan crooked his head and sent him a heavy look.

“I intend to get wet anyway,” he pointed out.

Hermedil watched him as he carefully took off his shirt and removed the bandages. Seeing the looks he and Thorongil gave to sleeping Elrohir, he offered to lead Elladan to the water and sent his friend a reassuring smile as he saw a silent request to take care of the elf.

Elladan learned quite quickly that he was overly confident when it came to his strength. As long as he was sitting, he was able to ignore the wound on his side, but now every step made the stitches pull uncomfortably and his cloak brushed painfully against the arrow wound. Besides, he felt utterly defenceless without his sword, walking among friendly people, but strangers nonetheless. Elladan was aware Hermedil accompanied him not only because Estel asked him to. He too would have watched a stranger in his camp, even if he had been allowed to move freely around.

Leaving the tent made him realise one more detail he had not thought about earlier. Those were not the Dunedain, harsh and used to working with elves. The men of Rohan saw a Firstborn for the first time in their lives, if the intrigued glances he felt were any indication. The news about their presence must have already circled the camp, because most of the Rohirrim stared at Elladan with interest, but not surprise. Some of them, apparently knowing Hermedil well, approached him and asked questions, but Elladan used the fact that he didn’t understand and left all the explanations to his guide.

Before they reached the stream, Elladan was about to admit it would have been better to wait till evening or at least eat something. He had to watch his steps, because he was far less steady than he would have wished and the Rohirrim’s stares made him feel uneasy.

Hermedil walked a few steps behind him, engaged in a friendly chatter. Elladan went to the edge of the stream a bit at the side, where grass was less trampled. Subconsciously he started to listen to the Rohirrim and tried to understand them, and so he became less focused. He wanted to turn and ask about something, but a painful pull stopped him midway and he lost his fragile balance. He couldn’t hold back a surprised cry as the ground slipped from under his feet and he fell into the ice-cold water. Another pull, the stitches torn and Elladan bent over. His cloak was soaking with water and becoming heavy on his shoulders.

Next moment Hermedil and his companion grabbed him by the arms and seated him on the edge. Elladan bit his lip as one of them held him right next to still tender wound. Between his fingers pressed to his side he could feel liquid much warmer than the cold water in the stream.

“Are you alright?” asked Hermedil.

“I’m fine,” Elladan reassured him and untangled himself from the cloak, half of which was already soaked. “Thank you. I’ll manage on my own.”

The Rohirrim backed a bit to give him a minimum of privacy, but Elladan could feel their glances as he undressed and went into the stream. He wasn’t really surprised; right now, he didn’t exactly trust himself either.

The water was cold, but allowed to wash out everything he had no strength to clean the previous evening. Elladan dived and washed all the dirt, blood and sweat from his hair, then combed it with a bone comb. He didn’t stay long in the water, though; it was safer to get out. The blood was still running down his side and he was beginning to feel lightheaded.

“Estel will have my head,” he muttered to himself when he examined the damage. He put his trousers on and wrapped his cloak around his shoulders; it was uncomfortably wet and heavy. The worse thing was that he needed to go back.

He returned to the tent on shaking legs, hoping he would not have to ask Hermedil for help. The Rohirrim kept close, ready to react, if necessary, but he said nothing.

Elladan was ready for Estel’s reproaches, knowing he wasn’t careful enough and just caused him additional work, and himself – unnecessary pain. None came, though. Estel was kneeling with a bowl next to Elrohir, who was fighting with nausea again; the tent was wide open. Elladan quickened his pace without thinking. Next moment Hermedil’s arm steadied him when he tripped, but he just shrugged it off and reached his brother in a few steps.

“What’s going on, Estel?”

“We were trying to eat breakfast, but that wasn’t the best idea,” muttered Aragorn grimly, when Elrohir slumped back on his bedding.

“Either it’s too early, or the herbs I mixed were too weak.” Elladan glanced at the almost empty mug. He placed his hand on his brother’s forehead, but he had to remove it. With his other hand still by his side, he was losing balance without support. Dizziness didn’t stop and the stuffy air in the tent didn’t help.

Only now did Estel take his eyes off Elrohir and looked at the other brother. He sighed, resigned, then forced Elladan to sit down with one fluent movement.

“It won’t help if you fall over him,” he said quietly when Elladan cast him an offended look. However, that was enough to alarm Elrohir.

“Dan?” The younger of the twins opened his eyes and found his brother with his bleary eyes.

“I’m still standing on my feet,” Elladan smiled.

“Tripping over them, more likely,” commented Estel.

Elladan let the remark go by, busy taking various packages with herbs from his bag. He wiped his hands against his trousers, trying to ignore the twinges in his side.

“What do you intend to do?” Estel backed off, letting Elladan take the lead, for which the elf was grateful.

“Give me a mug of wine,” asked the son of Elrond, opening one of the bags. “Watered. If the mixture wasn’t enough, we’ll try different way. Bring me some boiling water.”

They worked in silence for the next minutes. Estel tried once or twice to ask him, but finally he learned from Hermedil what had happened by the water. Elladan listened to his request and didn’t move, but he also didn’t let Estel touch him or put on his shirt until Elrohir fell back to sleep. Only then did he wash his hands and leaned his head against the tent’s pillar.

“I’m afraid I won’t go to your commander right now. I’m far too dizzy,” he admitted. The trip to the water was more demanding than he thought and he didn’t want to leave his brother, not even with Estel.

“Drink.” Aragorn passed him a mug with brew they had just given Elrohir. “And perhaps eat something?” He pushed towards him the basket Hermedil had brought. “Just show me your side first.”

Elladan nodded, He wasn’t going anywhere.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay fo four-hour car drive that allowed me to translate this chapter today. However, feel free to yell at me if something's wrong, I did my best, but I'm bit dead on my feet right now.  
> And big THANK YOU for any kind of response I get from you. It means a lot to me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V**

After the trip to the water Elladan did not try to go anywhere for the rest of the day, deciding it would be better to rest a bit more. Elrohir’s condition improved till the evening enough for him to eat something and finally both of the brothers were able to rest at night.

After making sure they didn’t need anything, Estel went with a patrol next morning, which was to make sure no other orc hoard like the one the brothers had met was anywhere nearby. Aragorn was supposed to just point them the right direction, but he was gone for long hours anyway.

The brothers remained in tent most of the time, as they didn’t want to draw attention. However, Elladan went to talk with the commander like he had promised and that was enough to make a commotion. Curious glances assisted him all the way and some of the Rohirrim approached him even to exchange a few words. Elladan used that to learn where their horses had been taken. As soon as he mentioned the horses, someone was willing not only to point him the way, but to guide him as well.

***

Aragorn’s absence lasted until the next morning, as he had ridden farther away than he had intended. When he came, he passed Elladan returning from the river. He went to talk to the commander and when he returned to his tent, he found both of the brothers sitting outside, mending their clothes.

“Hermedil asks if you feel up to joining the fire tonight,” he said, sitting down next to Elladan, who had just finished stitching his shirt.

“I do,” replied the elder son of Elrond, looking critically at his work. _‘It’ll suffice,_ ’ he decided.

“Why not,” agreed Elrohir. “The Rohirrim are curious.” That was not a question.

“They will understand if you decline.”

“We are curious as well.” Elladan smiled, cutting off the discussion.

Elrohir remembered about the letter from Gilraen and he finally delivered it. Aragorn asked again about his mother and they spent most of the afternoon recalling home.

***

A few fires were made in the centre of the camp, where supper was being made. Some of the scouting parties had not yet returned, so not many Rohirrim gathered by the fires; enough, though, to make a friendly, chattering company.

Estel sat next to Elladan at a log used as a bench, but Elrohir preferred to sit on the ground, so he could stretch his leg and lean against the legs of his human brother.

The conversation with the Rohirrim went on easily; most of them spoke Common Speech. Elladan asked about the horses he had had a chance to see when he had gone to check on their own horses. In the meantime someone shared supper, someone brought beer. It was enough to mention the beautiful horses to the hosts to get a topic for most of the evening.

“Your structures are way more developed than theywere, but you still have magnificent horses,” commented Elladan. “And I think you possess more of them than you did.”

“Some things don’t change,” added Elrohir.

“Have you ever been here before?” asked someone immediately. “When?”

The brothers exchanged amused glances. Elladan took a sip of beer and replied.

“At that time those grounds were not yours yet. As far as I know, Gondor gave them to you after the battle.”

For a moment most of the Rohirrim stared at their guests in confusion. Only Aragorn did not seem surprised, though he was interested as well.

“Do you mean the Battle of the Field of Celebrant?” inquired Hermedil. “The battle when Eorl the Young came to aid Gondor?”

“One and the same,” confirmed Elrohir. “We too took part in it.”

“But... But that was over four hundred years ago!”

“Many Winters have passed since we were born.” Elladan smiled. “We rarely go this far south, we usually have enough work closer to our home. The paths and roads have to be kept safe.”

After such revelation many questions arose, at first general and full of disbelief, but when it became clear that elven memory allowed their guests to easily recall the events of old days, the more curious men started to ask about the details from the battle. The brothers replied eagerly. Only when asked about the reason of their partaking, they briefly mentioned the wrongs their mother had suffered.

At some point a young boy sitting next to Hermedil asked quietly about something in his native language. Elladan glanced at him questioningly, as he didn’t catch everything.

“Could you repeat?”

The boy just blushed, but Hermedil had no problems with translating his question to Common Speech.

“Deorgar asked whether you always braid your hair like that. It’s impossible to tell you apart.”

Estel snorted in amusement.

“Try to guess in the middle of the one which one you are supposed to wake for the next watch,” he suggested and both of the brothers looked at him with feigned offense.

“You usually managed just fine,” said Elrohir, indignant. “But to answer your question, yes, usually,” he smiled. “But it has not always been so...”

***

_If motherhood had taught Celebrian anything, it was certainly that whenever her boys’ rooms were quiet, it was the first hint that she should be worried. In the morning the twins peacefully accepted the fact that Bruinen was too wild after Spring thaw and they could not go and play by the river by themselves. Instead, they were allowed to go to the stables and they seemed satisfied, so Celebrian let them out of her sight._

_Now she was no longer sure it was a good decision. The boys had not demolished the stables, were neither in the kitchens nor in their father’s studio, but there was a livid conversation coming from Elladan’s room. As the doors were not closed, the elleth stood by it and glanced before coming in._

_“It can be shorter, Dan,” Elrohir was just saying enthusiastically. “No Balrog will have anything to catch.”_

_“Findel always brides his hair when he rides out,” nodded Elladan, to his mother’s terror manipulating with scissors near his brother’s ear. “And what for? He could just cut them and there would be no trouble,” he glanced at his own hair, still falling loosely at his arms. He cut Elrohir’s last long strands and put the scissors away. “Alright, now’s your turn.”_

_Using the moment when none of her boys had anything sharp in their hands that could hurt them, when startled, Celebrian went inside._

_***_

“You should have seen our mother when she found out,” snorted Elrohir. “She came just as Elladan finished cutting my hair and of course she took all the scissors she could find in our rooms.”

“Are you telling me there was a time when you could be easily told apart from first glance?” Aragorn laughed in disbelief. For as long as he could remember, the brothers kept their hair at similar length and often braided them similarly, as if it amused them to confuse everybody around. They were never making it any easier, so the idea was hard to imagine.

“Mhm,” nodded Elladan happily. “For about an hour, before we managed to sneak to the kitchens to get something sharp. I could not be in worse position than my brother, could I?”

“Yes, and you got scolded twice for that,” his brother reminded him. “And I still dread what would have happened, had we struck to our original idea.”

“Which was...?” Aragorn glanced from one brother to the other; he had not heard that story before.

“Well, we wanted to spare Glorfindel the trouble of braiding his hair, but we didn’t have enough courage.”

Estel laughed at the thought and the Rohirrim, though they did not know the mentioned elf, joined him. Gone was their original suspicion, as they learned that the brothers were pleasant companions and the anecdotes were far from unusual, with the exception of their mentioning the battle with Eorl the Young. That seemed incomprehensible, but that was what made their company so interesting.

The chatters lasted long at night. At some point the brothers went quiet, letting the hosts to lead the conversation. Some of the Rohirrim went to rest, some spread comfortably on the ground, enjoying the pleasant evening and well-earned rest after patrols.

Elladan leaned forward a bit and rested his elbow on his knees; he kept the other hand protectively by his side. He added a few words from time to time, but he was mostly silent.

“You’d lie down, wouldn’t you?” asked Aragorn quietly as he realised his brother must have been uncomfortable. Elrohir was sleeping for some time, with his cheek resting against Aragorn’s right knee.

“Mmm.” Elladan looked away from the fire. “Ro?” He leaned and poked his brother.

Elrohir sat up straight at once and his vigilant eyes looked around. As he realised he was still in a safe place, he winced and reached with his hand to his stiff neck.

“What would you say about going back to tent to get some decent sleep?” asked Elladan.

“I’ve had enough of any sleep,” grumbled his brother, but his own sleepy voice contradicted him.

“Perhaps you do, but I dream of nothing else.” Elladan stood up and offered his brother a hand. “Sit, Estel, we’ll find the way,” he winked at Aragorn.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think about elves-Rohirrim meeting?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay, I needed to catch up a bit with life.

**Chapter VI**

The camp became more lively a few days later, when a group of adolescent boys from nearest villages came to learn the basics of defence under vigilant eyes of experienced warriors. For most of them it was the first time they had anything to do with armed riders, so though their guardians attempted to keep discipline, the boys made quite a merry commotion.

Elladan and Elrohir showed keen interest how the training was going to look like, so they went with Thorongil to watch. Hermedil suggested that they stay aside as not to disturb anyone. The soldiers in the camp had got used to the sight of their unusual guests, but the boys could easily get distracted. As Hermedil warned them, Thedwid, the teacher, would likely to be angry.

Nevertheless, they didn’t stay aside for long. At some point Elladan left his brother talking to Thorongil and approached the group of young boys training under Thedwid’s supervision. He watched them for a moment, then spoke suddenly to the nearest boy and skilfully adjusted his grip on the sword. Hermedil could not hear what he said, but Thedwid reacted just like he thought he would. The teacher stopped his explanations and approached the elf with resentful expression. Hermedil could not grasp his first words, but as he came closer he heard an angry response to Elladan’s calm reply.

“I will not have a fledgling get smart with me!”

Hermedil moved his eyes from Elladan to his brother and Thorongil, but though his friend had an interesting expression, Elrohir seemed sincerely amused with the situation. Hermedil still found it hard o put the elves’ age with their young appearance, so no wonder Thedwid made a mistake.

“I was not trying to question your competence.” Said Elladan calmly, only slightly betraying what he thought of it.

“So perhaps you’re willing to show what you can, if you’re so clever?” Thedwid scornfully gave him a practice sword.

“Why not.” Elladan weighted the sword and swung it a few times. “But I would prefer to spar with you, not with one of those boys,” he added, seeing that the Rohirrim was looking at his wards.

“As you wish.”

From Thorongil’s expression Hermedil gathered that he knew exactly what to expect and that was something worth seeing. For a moment he considered telling Thedwid who the guests were and that he was probably making a mistake, but decided against it. Thedwid was skilled, but snippy and overly confident. And as Elladan seemed not to mind...

The elf was quick and left no time for thinking. He backed once or twice before the Rohirrim, but he must have been testing him and his own abilities, for he did not let his guard down even for a brief moment. Hermedil feared that Thedwid, once pushed too much, would forget it was only a spar, but he needn’t to, as Elladan ended the duel rather quickly. He was panting, but otherwise seemed fine. And to think he had been tripping over his own feet after a few steps...

Before Hermedil recovered from his astonishment, Elrohir whispered something to Thorongil and approached him. He kept the practice sword leaned freely over his left shoulder; he was no longer limping.

“Shall we, Hermedil?” he asked with a smile, his eyes sparkling with humour.

 _‘They are enjoying it as much as we do,_ ’ realised Hermedil.

“With pleasure, if you feel up to it,” he replied, but glanced questioningly at Thorongil before he realised what he was doing. His friend saw it and bit his lip as not to snort. Hermedil reproached himself silently; the elves’ look was misleading and he yet again treated them like younglings.

If Elrohir saw it, which he probably did, he didn’t show it.

“I probably won’t show off like Elladan, but I think I will be able to keep up with you.”

Hermedil was about to ask how he was going to do so, but Elrohir dispelled his doubts, grabbing the sword with his left hand. He did say he was not going to show off, but he was as fast as his brother. While Elladan had played with Thedwid a bit, giving himself space and demonstrating the boys something, Elrohir focused solely on sparring. He moved less, probably still favouring his leg, but he did not make it easy for Hermedil, who this time could not just watch the elf. He was not really surprised when Elrohir pulled his legs from under him, changing his move in the middle of action.

“Not bad.” The elf smiled and reached his free arm to help him up.

The Rohirrim accepted his help, but let go of Elrohir’s hand as he hissed in pain and involuntarily loosened his grip.

“I’m sorry,” said Hermedil, seeing the elf wince in pain and hide his hand protectively between the buttons of his shirt. He took both practice swords and gave them to the nearest boys.

“No one would ask on the road if I am fine and fit.” Elrohir, though pale, hid his discomfort behind a smile. “And it was my suggestion,” he reminded him.

“What you can do with your weaker hand...” Hermedil shook his head in disbelief.

“You should see what they are capable of when they face each other,” said Thorongil, joining them with the other elf. “It’s worth to watch.”

“It’s too soon, I would not stand a chance against Elladan,” remarked Elrohir soberly. “And no, don’t you say a word, I did see you adjusting your own dressings,” he said, seeing that his brother was about to comment his sparring with Hermedil.

Thedwid heard the remark and looked at Elladan with surprise. And respect, this time, noticed Hermedil.

Their discussion was interrupted by the sound of approaching horses. A small patrol, ragged and dusty, rode between the tents. Three riders kept someone before them in the saddles, a few looked like they were about to fall from their horses.

Seeing the wounded and hearing the Rohirrim’s nervous calls, among which a mention of poison could be heard, Elladan said something quickly to his brother in their language and disappeared between the tents, while Elrohir followed Thorongil to the big tent that was a healing place.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter VII**

Elrohir used the commotion and knelt beside a wounded, around whom the Rohirrim had fussed a moment earlier. The boy was unconscious, his skin pale and dry. The elf uncovered the dressings on his shoulder and exhaled; it was bad, but not as tragic as he had thought from the comments he had heard.

Next moment he lost his balance as someone grabbed him from behind and dragged away from the wounded. Elrohir jumped on his feet and bit his lip, trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder.

“Keep your hands away from my brother, elf,” hissed the Rohirrim that interrupted him. He was older than the lying boy, and just like the rest of the patrol, he was wounded, dirty and tired.

“I won’t hurt him, I want to help,” objected Elrohir, letting the almost accusing tone of the man go by. He could understand his fear for his brother all too well, but he didn’t move. From what he had grasped, the Rohirrim were about to cut the boy’s arm. He was not going to let them do that.

“You will not use that magic of yours on him!” The man snarled, but before he tried to push Elrohir away, Elladan grabbed his arm.

“I wouldn’t do that.” The elder son of Elrond narrowed his steel eyes. “We are elves, we use herbs, not magic. And we can help your brother better than by amputating his arm,” he added brutally.

Elrohir noticed that Hermedil heard their quarrel, but at the same time he spotted Aragorn taking out all the herbs Elladan had brought.

“Estel, please explain to him that we want to help, for we are just wasting our time,” he said, irritated, involuntarily in Sindarin. “The poison has gone far, but I think I will be able to stop it.”

As he heard a completely foreign speech, the brother of the wounded looked at the elves with hostile, but he said nothing when he saw Thorongil, so Elladan let go of him.

Whether it was Hermedil or Estel who gave some explanation to the mistrustful Rohirrim, Elladan did not care. His brother’s thin lips told him what he already suspected; if they were to succeed, they would have to act swiftly and stop the infection caused by the poison. _‘Eru witness, we’ve had more than enough experience in that recently,’_ Elladan thought grimly.

Elrohir was already undressing the boy from his sweat-soaked shirt. Seeing that it was already torn, he cut it freely. He wanted to lift him, but had to give up; his arm was still too weak.

“Help me,” he hissed to his brother.

Whatever Estel had said to the Rohirrim, he must have succeeded, for they let the twins work. Someone brought water, someone passed dressings... Elrohir cleaned the wound and removed old, festered stitches, then backed to prepare the medicine. The elder son of Elrond took it upon himself to re-stitch the wound, telling his brother which herbs he had used to heal him. As it turned out in Elrohir’s case, the orcs had come up with some new poison which caused them a lot of trouble, so it was safe to assume that it would be even worse for humans. The state of the boy proved well enough that if the medicine that healed Elrohir would not work, it wasn’t going to end well. Despite what the Rohirrim might have thought, cutting the arm would not solve the problem, but would rather have killed the boy quicker.

Elladan did all he could and left the still unconscious boy in care of his brother. The Rohirrim, patched up in the meantime, looked at the elf more friendly, but he was still far from trusting. _‘If something goes wrong, he will blame us,”_ realised Elladan, but there was still much to do, so he didn’t bother himself for the time being.

He straightened carefully. His side was still objecting bending like that. He noticed Elrohir was helping Estel, and then he supported a man passing by when his legs buckled.

The Rohirrim was not too high but broad and he leaned against Elladan with all of his weight. The elder son of Elrond muffled his own cry as the wounded accidentally hit his side; he had probably torn some of his stitches earlier as he had tended to the boy. A little bent to the side, Elladan led the man aside.

“Thank you.” The man sank on the ground with relief, but he was glaring at the elf rather mistrustfully. He was pressing his hands to his thigh.

“Let me see, I’ll help,” offered Elladan, forcing himself to keep his voice even. He reluctantly took his hand from his own side, but he needed both if he was to do anything.

The Rohirrim didn’t seem convinced, but he allowed the elf to remove the dressings. Elladan went on working, hissing as his side was bothering him. This time the wound didn’t seem infected and he was grateful for that. Elrohir had found two more wounded with poison in their veins, so they were going to have a hard night anyway.

Elladan didn’t even realise he was muttering under his breath, before the Rohirrim he was tending to asked Estel aloud. “What kind of spells is he murmuring?”

“Jus cursing the poisons and Morgoth’s spawn dozens of generations back. Quite expressively,” replied Estel, if Elladan understood him properly. “Elladan, be as kind as to swear in Common Speech, not everybody can understand you,” said Estel to his foster brother.

His remark brought smiles to the faces of the Rohirrim. Some snorted, amused, only the one being treated by the elf looked unsure. Elladan smiled as well.

“I can’t do it in your language,” he remarked and went back to his work.

The mood was lifted up a bit, as soon there were some Rohirrim willing to teach their guests local curses. Willy-nilly, Elladan partook in the conversation, as all of them needed to relax a bit.

***

The commotion quieted as the wounded received help. Some left, some stayed under care. Elladan made sure the man he tended to got herbs Estel had prepared, then sought his brother.

Elrohir was kneeling by the boy again. His eyes were closed, he kept his hands on the boy’s arm and was whispering something. The brother of the wounded was eyeing at him suspiciously, but he did not disturb him, seeing that the youngling stopped tossing and fell asleep. Elrohir didn’t move, though, deep in trans. Elladan knew how taxing it was for him; none of them possessed the skills of their father, but what they were able to do, especially Elrohir, could save the kid’s life.

Elladan approached the brother of the wounded as he was getting more and more restless and perhaps was about to interrupt Elrohir.

“Go, rest,” he suggested quietly. “We’ll keep watch.”

“What is he doing?” The Rohirrim whispered back, watching Elrohir and the sweat that appeared on his forehead.

“He’s trying to help, but it’s tough. If he manages to make your brother sleep peacefully, it will be easier to fight off the poison.”

The Rohirrim looked around, but as he saw many of his friends were staying, he agreed to go and left unsteadily. Elladan sat down next to his brother, careful not to disturb him.

“Have you seen my bag?” he asked Estel as he passed by.

“By the table, I think.” Aragorn glanced at the table where the herbs had been prepared. “Do you want something?”

“Miruvor.” The son of Elrond pointed at his brother, still by the wounded. “Ro will need.”

“Aye.” Elrohir nodded tiredly. He moved away from the bedding and leaned with relief against one of the pillars supporting the tent. “I hope it will help.”

“Me too.” Elladan moved closer and stretched his legs freely. “I’d rather not have to get up now.”

“What is it?” asked Estel worriedly.

“Too much movement.” The elder of the brothers gave him a wry smile. “Don’t worry. We’re staying here with the wounded anyway.”

***

The sons of Elrond stayed in the camp for a few days, until they made sure the poison would not kill anyone. No one questioned their presence in the healing tent as their treatment gave results. The brothers mentioned once or twice they would be going soon, but when they said their time was up, many of the Rohirrim offered them to stay longer. The brothers suspected they would gladly go together on a patrol.

Estel alone did not argue. Those two weeks Elladan and Elrohir spent in the camp was more of a home than he had hoped. It grieved him to part with his foster brothers, but he knew they couldn’t overuse the hospitality. Because of the commotion with orcs and problems with poison, as well as their usefulness, not many questions were asked, but they were sure to arise soon and cause Aragorn trouble. So as soon as it was plain the wounded would recover, the brothers bid their farewell.

“It’s time for us to go back North,” said Elrohir. “If we want to reach home before Winter, we need to cross the mountains before the snow falls. Later the pass will be impossible for our horses.”

“You can go South,” suggested someone. “The road is longer, but safer.”

“It seems to me you know your paths well,” said someone else. “But you also don’t look like you’d ignore a good advice. Beware of the Golden Forest, strange and dangerous stories we know of this land and the Lady that rules there.”

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged amused glances, but made no comments. There was no point in explaining that they indeed planned to stop in the land of Galadriel and perhaps spend the Winter there, if it was already too late to cross the mountains.

Aragorn went with them. He intended to ride a bit with them before going back to Meduseld. He wished to say farewell to his brothers without any witnesses.

The camp became more lively a few days later, when a group of adolescent boys from nearest

 

 


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday today, so I wish you all a nice day. Here you are, the end of this story.  
> Many thanks to all who read this little piece. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing and translating it.

**Epilogue**

_A year later..._

They were in trouble, that much was plain. The orcs attacked in the fog the patrol coming back home the shortest way possible, as they were already tired and wounded after some earlier encounter. Among twenty of the Rohirrim only a half was capable of handling weapons and the attack would not cease.

Hearing the sound of the hooves on the rocky ground, Hermedil turned around, unsure whether there where friends or enemies coming, but he could see little in the fog. His doubts were dispelled a moment later when two riders rode between the fighting. The fog softened the sound of their swords being bared, but could not muffle the terrified cries of the orcs or gurgling of those who found themselves within reach of the newcomers’ blades.

In all the battle chaos Hermedil had no time to see who had come to their aid; he was grateful for any blade on their side. He protected one of his wounded soldiers and helped him back off; the strangers were clearing the ground and seemed to need more space.

Only then did Hermedil have time to look who saved his men from slaughter the fight was likely to end up in. From the results the newcomers got with their sudden appearance he thought there were more of them, but he saw only two strangers. _‘No, not strangers,’_ realised Hermedil in astonishment as he saw the face of one of them and recognised the elf who visited their camp the previous Summer.

He had not really believed Thorongil when he had spoken about the abilities of his elven friends. Now he had no doubts his tales were not exaggerated. The brothers wreaked havoc, moving swiftly and fluently, guarding each other’s backs and, as it seemed, never exposing themselves. After the first impact the brothers jumped off their horses and literally cut their way to the Rohirrim among the orcs. Soon the fight was over.

“Elen sila lumen omentielvo.” Hermedil sighed in relief, recalling the greeting Thorongil had taught him. “You’ve come just in time.”

The brother standing nearer turned towards him. Surprise flashed on his face, then his blood-covered face was lightened with a merry smile.

“So, we are meeting again, Hermedil.” The elf replied in Common Speech, knowing probably that the greeting was all the Rohirrim knew. “Elrohir, look who we’ve bumped into,” he called to his brother, who was already kneeling by one of the wounded.

“The men of Rohan,” muttered the elf absent-mindedly. “Don’t move,” he ordered the man whom he was trying to help.

“Take a closer look,” suggested Elladan.

“Right, I’ll just...” Elrohir raised his head. “Oh.” He smiled when he noticed Hermedil. “We are lucky. Not only have we finally got that pack, but we have also met friends,” he said friendly and got back to tending to the wounded.

Hermedil took care of his men. He ordered the wounded to be patched up, the dead to be buried; they were too far away from home to risk taking the bodies to some more friendly grounds. He was grateful for the elves’ help who took care of the most gravely wounded. But when he asked if they would accompany them at least part of the way, they declined.

“We have already ridden too far south,” explained Elrohir, wiping his hands on some leaves. “We need to return before our friends start to worry about our absence. I don’t think you’d be in danger.”

“I hope so,” replied Hermedil. “If our ways are to part so soon after our meeting, so be it. Go, as we are too in a hurry to reach open space.”

Elrohir whistled purely and both black horses approached their riders. The elves mounted them swiftly and circled the men preparing to leave.

 “Give Thorongil our best,” called Elladan.

“Stay safe,” replied Hermedil. He did not add that Thorongil had gone to Gondor in the Spring and remained there in service of the Steward. He suspected that if his elven friends wished to find him, they would easily do so.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked the story, please leave a few words. If there was something wrong, please tell me as well, I will never be offended and I will do my best to correct myself. Any kind of feedback is much appreciated.


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